


i want to look at you

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [72]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Inspired by 03x02 - Claire and Jamie, reunited, can't stop looking at each other.





	i want to look at you

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/165585105681/i-want-to-look-at-you) on tumblr

Claire’s eyes drifted open only after Jamie finally released, his soft cry warm on her mouth.

His hands framed her face, perched on shaky elbows astride her shoulders. Her fists clenched, scraping blunt fingernails against his buttocks, ankles locked around his trembling legs. Cocooned and safe and deliciously warm beneath the thick quilts Jocasta had so thoughtfully supplied for their first winter in this new cabin – in this new land.

In this new life.

“It’s my favorite sound.” Her lips – exquisitely sensitive – brushed against his as she spoke. “When you let go.”

He pulled back – just enough for their noses to touch – and just stared at her.

Swallowed.

Traced the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. Drunk on her whisky eyes.

“I *did* pledge to give ye my body,” he gasped. The rumble of his voice against her belly – coursing through where they were joined – sparked to her fingertips.

Slowly, gently she drew her right hand up his impossibly soft flank – thumbnail edging against his pelvis, then chest, then shoulder, fingers caressing his scars.

To cup his dear, dear face. Palm rasping the stubble of his cheek. Thumb worrying his swollen lower lip – then he took it into his mouth, teeth nipping at her knuckle.

He glowed in the firelight. Looking like lad of twenty-three who had so gallantly given himself to her in a forgotten Highland inn. And the battered – but never broken – man of forty-seven, face creased with lines of loss and worry and guilt. Capable of great sorrow, and capable of great joy.

Jamie released her thumb with a kiss. “Ye look so bonny. Yer hair – yer eyebrows. Yer face…”

Lips found each other in a long, languid kiss.

“I dreamed of ye like this – *us* like this – so many times…”

“Sshh.” Her thumb closed his lips., hips settling into the feather mattress, bringing him deeper.

Her breath rushed out with a soft cry. His head turned, kissing her palm.

“God help me, Claire – I canna stop looking at ye.”

Her fingers pushed his tears away – and then he bent to kiss her own.

“You…” she stuttered – voice breathy and far away. “You are the stuff of my dreams.”

Now he resumed the rhythm that was burned into their bones. Slow. Giving. Eyes locked on hers – always, *always* on hers.

How her mouth always smiled, before tightening into a perfect O. How her eyes flashed with need – then went glassy with ecstasy.

A log broke in the fire. Autumn wind whistled through the eaves Jamie had hewn with his own hands. A woodpecker drilled on the dead pine tree outside their one window.

Her favorite crease appeared between his brows – furrowed with concentration as he loved her. His lips parted, breath hot against her wrist as she cradled his face in her hand.

And they shared a smile.

For it was a long night – with nothing to do but make up for lost time.


End file.
